


Parting Ways

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (Show) [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, geralt refuses to have feelings, he’s being a dick but for the right reasons, jaskier gets tied to a tree, poor jaskier is just along for the ride, roach just wants some damned peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: “That’s it. I’m done being nice.”“That was you being nice? Yikes.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (Show) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624300
Comments: 26
Kudos: 462





	Parting Ways

**Author's Note:**

> I found the prompt on oopsprompts and it spoke to me.

The bard was still following him.

Geralt tried not to growl, not even as Jaskier sang the same five words again, barely changing his inflection. “Does that sound better to you?” he asked.

“No.”

“You know, you say the exact same thing every time I ask you something, so I’m starting to think you’re not really listening.”

They were due to reach a town - and it couldn’t come soon enough - and he was already planning how best to leave his new companion. Sneaking out the back? Waiting for Jaskier to pick up some girl? Spurring Roach into a gallop and just leaving him?

He’d have to wait to leave him in a town, of course, because if he left him alone in the wilderness, the bard would probably fall off a cliff by accident.

Of course, they’d already been through two towns since escaping Filavandrel, and he had yet to get rid of him. Geralt had suggested it many, many times, but Jaskier continued to follow him, insisting that he had to come along, “to change your image, Geralt! It will take far more than one song!”

But no, he was going to get rid of him. Now.

It had nothing to do with the fact that the bard was in mortal danger of course, but because Geralt missed the peace and quiet. He didn’t care if the bard died. Not at all.

He waited that evening until Jaskier was more than a bit tipsy, leaning happily against a pretty girl, before slipping out the back of the inn. Roach nickered softly, looking toward the inn as if to ask where their companion was. “He’s staying,” Geralt said.

Roach almost looked disapproving.

He took her reins and pulled her along, leading her toward the edge of town.

“Geralt!”

He stopped, just around the corner from the inn, cursing under his breath.

“Geralt! Don’t leave me!” Fools seemed to have the best luck, and Jaskier picked the correct corner to round, staring at Geralt with wide eyes. “You were leaving me!”

It seemed the bard wasn’t as drunk as he thought, still standing more or less straight, able to focus clearly on Geralt. There would be no leading him back inside and lying that he’d be right back.

Jaskier stepped forward, stopping just in front of Geralt, and the Witcher rolled his eyes. “That’s it,” he growled. “I’m done being nice.”

“That was you being nice?” Jaskier asked in disbelief. “Yikes- if you think nice is leaving me in a strange town, then-”

Geralt leaned over, narrowing his eyes at Jaskier until their faces almost touched. “Fuck off, bard.”

“I won’t-”

“You will, or I’ll tie you to a tree.”

Jaskier only laughed. “No, you wouldn’t!” He was either more drunk than Geralt had thought or he was more stupid than he’d thought.

Either way, Geralt was over it. “Don’t try me.” He turned, grabbing Roach’s reins, and stormed away.

Footsteps chased after him. “Geralt!”

He walked faster.

Jaskier’s footsteps faltered for a moment and he swore. “I am too drunk for this! Geralt!”

Geralt stopped.

“Oh, thank the gods!” Jaskier said brightly, stumbling up to him. Geralt glanced over his shoulder and jerked his head sharply. Jaskier - who clearly hadn’t learned better - stepped forward.

Geralt grabbed him by his ridiculous collar, slammed him against the nearest tree, and - before the bard, who was clearly a bit drunk - could stop him, wrapped a rope around his midsection.

“Geralt!”

“I warned you, bard.”

“Geralt, untie me. You’re being ridiculous- you can’t just leave me, alone in a strange town, tied to a tree like some maiden in a fairytale.”

“The villagers will find you tomorrow,” Geralt said, turning his back and grabbing for Roach’s reins again.

“They’ll find me tonight when I start screaming!”

The Witcher froze.

Slowly he turned back, and Jaskier - as naive as ever - seemed to relax, as if thinking he’d won over Geralt. Instead, he used the end of the rope to gag him. If possible, Jaskier seemed more betrayed, his eyes widening.

He pushed his finger into Jaskier’s chest and snarled, “The Path is too dangerous for a bard.”

Jaskier tried to reply, but his voice was muffled.

Geralt turned, grabbed Roach’s reins, and stomped off. He told himself he imagined Roach’s reproachful glare, just like he told himself he imagined hearing Jaskier sobbing.

He reached the edge of the town before he stopped. There was a strange feeling twisting in his gut - it wasn’t guilt, he told himself firmly - but it seemed tied to Jaskier.

“What if they rob him?” he asked Roach.

She flicked her ears.

“You saw him, he’s a prime target for robbers or worse. With his luck and reputation, some man whose wife he bedded probably lives here.”

The mare tossed her head.

“If I untie him, I won’t ever get rid of him,” he reasoned. “Maybe he needs to be robbed, scare some sense into him.” If he envisioned the scenario - imagined Jaskier in tears, a knife to his throat - he wouldn’t admit it. He was even less likely to admit the idea worried him.

“Fine,” he growled to the horse, pulling her back toward town. “But he’s staying here. And only because you’re worried.”

Jaskier was, predictably, still tied to the tree, sniffling softly. He didn’t react as Geralt stopped in front of him, kneeling beside him to untie him. It was purely a coincidence that he removed the gag last, of course, not that he didn’t want to listen to the bard’s fears.

But Jaskier didn’t immediately start whining, didn’t say he was cold, or hungry, or bored. He sunk to the ground, still leaned on the tree.

Geralt grit his teeth, looking back toward the road out of town. Roach flicked her tail.

Jaskier wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Damn it, bard,” Geralt growled. “This is where you say you were right, that I wouldn’t leave you tied to a tree.”

Jaskier finally looked up, something akin to shock registering in his eyes. Then he dropped his head back to his chest. “You really do hate me,” he whispered.

He should say yes. It would get rid of the bard.

“No, I’m trying to keep you alive, damn you.”

“By tying me to a tree?” Jaskier snorted.

“The Path is dangerous!”

“You’ve told me that.” There was still no emotion, no inflection, in the bard’s voice, and Geralt told himself that it didn’t worry him.

“You’re human, Jaskier, you’re not meant for this life.”

“You’re human too,” Jaskier said quietly, tilting his head back. “You make mistakes. That’s human.”

“Yeah, like tying you to a fucking tree. Now get up!”

“And do what?” Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt growled, gritting his teeth.

“I should have known you’d leave me, everyone does, although-this is the first time I’ve ever been tied to a tree, so I’m not certain how I feel about that. I was run out of a house naked once-” he sighed. “This annoys you, doesn’t it?”

The Witcher grunted.

“Look, I’ll be quiet. You won’t know I’m there - only, don’t leave me, please. Or, just ask-”

“I’ve tried asking.”

“You never seemed as though you meant it.”

Jaskier stared off into the distance, past Geralt, and the Witcher looked over his shoulder to check that there was nothing there. “What?”

“I’m just looking,” Jaskier said softly. “You can go, Geralt, if that’s what you please.”

“I’m glad to have your permission,” but there’s no venom in his voice, even if he means to snarl.

Jaskier rubbed at his face - oh he’d better not be crying - and pushed himself to his feet, taking a slow step in the direction of the tavern. Geralt watched as he dug into his pockets, pulled out his coin pouch, felt it, and turned away from the tavern.

The Witcher looked at his horse, but she was staring after the bard. “Jaskier!” Geralt shouted.

Jaskier stopped, not looking back. Geralt was forced to stomp after him. “These are the rules, bard: one, you’re not allowed to die. Two, if I tell you to run, you run. Three-”

“Rules for what?” Jaskier turned to look at him finally, something mischievous and a bit hopeful shining in his eyes.

“For the Path,” Geralt snarled through his teeth. If the bard thought he was going to make Geralt say _‘you can come’_ he was sorely mistaken.

“Do I get to make rules?” Jaskier asked hopefully.

“No,” snapped Geralt.

“You have to say you're sorry.”

Geralt grit his teeth. Then he grabbed Jaskier by his waist and tossed him onto Roach’s back. “Come on,” he said, taking her reins. “You can ride- but only when I say!”


End file.
